


No One to Answer To

by kennagirl



Series: The Opposite of What We Planned [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Break Up, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kennagirl/pseuds/kennagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>February 2013: Sometimes you just need to get away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One to Answer To

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 of Kurtbastian Week, vacations.

The sight that hit him when he walked into the coffee shop was familiar but wrong at the same time.  Kurt was sitting in their booth, the one where he got Wednesday morning coffee with Sebastian, the one Kurtbastianachel (Rachel insisted on coming up with the name) ate their Sunday afternoon lunch in.  But it was Thursday night, right after Sebastian’s late lab on campus, so…

“Shouldn’t you be right in the middle of your weekly Skype sex with Blaine right now?”

Kurt looked up, obviously startled.  When he saw who was standing at the end of the table, he smiled thinly.  “I don’t know, Bas, you’re the expert.  People say break-up sex is good, but is it still appropriate when the break-up happens over a video call?”

“What?”  He slid into the other side of the booth, thoughts of a late-night caffeine fix forgotten.  “What happened?”

“Nothing horrible,” Kurt admitted.  “We’ve both seen it coming for a while.  Christmas was awkward, but we ignored it hoping the awkwardness would go away.  Even Rachel could see things weren’t right, and you know how oblivious she can be sometimes.”

“But no one’s feeling are really hurt, right?” Sebastian asked.  “You’re not gonna start crying on my shoulder, are you?  Because I’ll let you if you really need it, but I’ll also call Rachel to come save me.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” Kurt assured him.  “I’m… numb, I guess.  I know it’s for the best since we fell out of love somewhere along the way, but it’s still a big piece of my life that’s over.”

Sebastian looked at him, gears turning in his head.  “What are you doing in your classes tomorrow?”

“Um,” Kurt was clearly confused by the non sequitur.  “Guest lecturer in one, movie in the other.  Why?”

“But no tests or important projects?”

“No.  Again, why?”

Sebastian slid out of the booth with his bag, then tugged the other boy to follow him.  Kurt kept up the questioning, then added complaining, but still followed.  Sebastian ignored him.  Instead, he sent a text to the two people most likely to kill him for this.

_To: Whore of Babylon; Yentl_  
 _Klaine is dead. Kidnapping Kurt for a long weekend of break-up partying. Will return him in one piece Sunday night._

They were almost to the parking garage a few blocks over where Sebastian had left his car parked when his phone dinged with a return message, and on the right floor when it dinged twice more.  Once they reached the car, he unlocked it and instructed Kurt to get in.  He complied, huffing his annoyance.  Sebastian shut the door and walked around the back for time to check the answers.

_From: Whore of Babylon_  
 _Don’t get arrested. I’m not driving to wherever the hell you are to bail you out._

He rolled his eyes, knowing that was her way of telling them to be careful.

_From: Yentl_  
 _I’m not sure that’s a good idea Sebastian. He should be around friends right now, not sweaty strangers that want to take advantage of him. Bring him home and I’_

_From: Yentl_  
 _ll have ice cream and a musical waiting._

One of these days, Rachel would actually learn to shorten her texts to keep them to one message.  He stuffed his phone in his pocket and climbed into the driver’s seat.  Making sure to switch on the headlights, he buckled up and started pulling out of his spot.

“Now will you tell me what you’re doing?”

Locking the doors in case Kurt got the stupid idea of trying to make a break for it, he kept his eyes on the pavement in front of him.  “We’re going to Atlantic City.”

“WHAT?!”

“Hear me out, dammit.”  Kurt stayed silent, waiting.  “We’re going to Atlantic City.  We’re going to drink and dance with strangers and dance with each other and flirt with anyone hot enough to be worth it.  During the day, I’ll let you drag me to ten million shops on the Boardwalk, but you’re carrying your own bags.  We’ll do stupid shit and have so much fun that you forget about being numb.  Then we’ll come back Sunday night and pretend none of it ever happened.  And you’ll be out of this funk because everything we’re going to do will take its place.”

He took a left turn onto a one-way street, listening for any kind of response from the passenger seat.  Instead there was silence, one that persisted until they were at the edge of the city proper and about to get on the highway.

“You’re letting me buy you new shirts.  And you carry half the shopping bags.”

“Only the ones of things for me.”

“Deal.”  He stuck his right hand over the console for Sebastian to shake, which he did gladly.

“Now Hummel, what’s on your bucket list that we can knock out this weekend?”

* * *

Half-past seven Sunday night had Kurt stumbling through the front door of the apartment he shared with Rachel to find her watching Funny Girl on the couch with a bored Santana.  He dropped the thirteen shopping bags, the cause of his unbalance, at the end of the couch, then flopped down.

The girls took in the sight of him.  Clothes meant for clubbing, scented with alcohol.  Either the faint beginnings or the tail end of a hickey on his neck.  Glitter trapped around the corners of his eyes and in his hairline.  The hair itself, which was suddenly bright blue.  Most important though was the relaxed smile on his face.

“Did you have a good weekend?” Santana asked, smirking like she already knew the answer.

Kurt hummed contentedly.  “What happens in Atlantic City stays in Atlantic City.”

“That’s not an answer,” Rachel reminded him.

“I know.”  He stood and stretched, allowing the shirt to ride up.  “I’m going to take a shower.”  He turned his back on the girls, unaware that his shirt hadn’t gone back down.  A new strip of red and black ink was clearly visible just above his waistband.


End file.
